“Our agent in the house can signal when he visits her. We simply send the monster you are creating to kill him and instruct it to kill anyone that’s with him.”
Jaderac turned the idea over and over in his mind. Providing they unleashed his creation at the correct hour it would work. Asea would be with her lover and her mind would surely not be focused on defence at that hour and under those circumstances. His pet would need only seconds to accomplish both their deaths.
“Give me that,” he said, taking the hair and putting it gingerly into a glass preservative jar. He spoke the words of sealing as soon as the stopper was in place. In its way this was a precious thing, a spoor to pass before the great hunting beast he would soon unleash. “I believe you have got it. The Queen-Empress will reward us both mightily for encompassing Asea’s death.”
Tamara’s smile answered his, and then for a second she frowned. “A pity about that young man,” she said. “I rather liked him. He was quite ruthless and amoral but I liked him.”
You liked him because he reminded you of yourself, Jaderac thought, but kept the thought to himself. He was excited by the plan she had outlined. In only a few more days, the greatest enemy of the Empress would be dead, and he would feted for it. And Tamara, of course, for the small part she had played in it.
“If you will excuse me, I have work to do,” he said, moving closer to the great sarcophagus and starting to croon slow, deadly spells in the old tongue of the Terrarchs.
Chapter Fourteen
Sardec woke from another dream of the dark spaces where the Spider God lurked. He reached for his face with his hand, and was once again surprised when the cold metal of his hook touched his cheek. The dreams were getting stranger. He had seen visions of Serpent Men and Ultari doing battle under a green tinged sky. The great tower flashed beams of devastating emerald light while huge insect winged spawn of Uran Ultar swirled around it. He had watched nightmarish combat in a time before any Terrarch had walked this land, fought with all the ferocity of the Elder Ages.
He wondered if he should talk to Asea about the dreams. Perhaps some mystical connection had been established between him and the Spider God in Deep Achenar. Or perhaps he was sensitive to the oppressive presence of that massive Serpent Man artefact out there. Or it might just be his own imagination. The battle in that lost city deep below the surface of Gaeia had been enough to give anyone nightmares.
He rose from the bed, and threw open the windows. In the courtyard, men sprawled around the well, cleaning their weapons, patching their clothes, gossiping and chatting. Servants came and went through the open doors, bringing food and washing. A peddler sold pies from a basket. Sergeant Hef chatted with Corporal Toby in the early morning sun. It all looked normal and reassuring and not at all like his apocalyptic dreams.
He called for a servant to help him dress. So far no word had come from the Tower as to whether Ilmarec would see them. The old wizard liked to make things dramatic. Lord Azaar must be fuming with impatience. The Tower bestraddled the Mor; his main line of attack into central Kharadrea had been cut off. He could always march along the Serpent Road that wound through the hills but that would take far longer than the river.
Sardec wondered how things were going with the Queen’s other armies. They must have crossed the borders further north at the High Passes by now. They were supposed to be part of a pincer movement closing on Halim, the capital of Kharadrea. Now at least one part of that mighty encircling action was delayed, perhaps indefinitely. The Dark Empress’s armies would not stand idly by and fail to take advantage of that. Jaderac’s presence here was ample proof that they were aware of what was going on.
He stared up at the massive green bulk of the Tower. It caught the light of the sun, glittering like a spike of coloured ice. There was no sign of the strange glow from the previous night. He saw movement on the balconies and wondered if anyone was looking down at him. Kathea must be up there somewhere, the woman they had hoped to put on the throne of this nation. Sardec wondered if she was even still alive.
Another thought occurred to him. Ilmarec was a powerful sorcerer. Stripped of her elder signs and magical protection he doubted whether the heir to the throne would be able to resist the sort of magic he could bring to bear. Perhaps he was ensorcelling her mind. He wondered if he should mention this possibility to Asea and decided that it had undoubtedly already occurred to her.
Sardec relieved himself into a chamber pot. The matter of taking a piss was awkward with only one hand, and that not the usual one he had used all his life. The servant entered and began to help him dress. He was one of the soldiers, being paid extra for the duty. Sardec asked him how went the morning, and the toad-faced man did not give his usual cheery responses. He seemed somewhat subdued, and when Sardec questioned him, he talked about the light that had played about the Tower last night. It had given him bad dreams, he said. A lot of the other soldiers too.
“What sort of dreams?” Sardec asked.
“About Serpent Men and other monsters like the ones we fought in the mines, sir. Demons of the Elder World.” Sardec decided that he had better mention this matter to Lady Asea. It was not just him suffering these nightmares.
The soldier spoke to Sardec guilelessly of all the gossip he had heard, of how many of the noble Terrarchs in town were said to have Purple sympathies, and how most of the humans, particularly the merchants were in favour of the Scarlet.
This town was close to the Talorean border; they would do most of their business there. Of course, merchants were not to be trusted. Their allegiances could change with the wind, or the currents of trade. If the Purples were victorious most of the Scarlet’s present supporters would suddenly prove always to have been secret Purple sympathisers. It was the way of these things.
And there was more, according to the toad-faced man, a cloud of fear hung over the town. The locals were all terrified. Those who would talk about it spoke of strange lights dancing over the tower top. The whole place appeared plagued by bad dreams. Everyone was convinced that something terrible was going to happen. Many people had already left town. Many more were talking of leaving while they still could. Only the money to be made from selling to the Tower kept most of the merchants here. Only fear of what might happen to them if they tried to leave kept the Terrarchs.
Sardec finished dressing and tipped the man a couple of coppers for his trouble. The soldier retreated bowing his thanks, and taking the chamber pot with him. Sardec stalked his chamber, pacing backwards and forwards like a condemned man in his cell on the night before his execution. The townsfolk were not the only ones who were nervous. He felt trapped here, in the shadow of the tower, in a town where he did not know who to trust.
Another glance at the soldiers below reassured him. They were all in the same boat as he was. They were far from home, surrounded by strangers, but they did not look at all ill at ease. A few of them had started a card game. Others were playing pitch and toss against the walls of the former stable. A couple had started a mock wrestling match. Others stood around placing bets on the outcome. They did not look worried, then again he supposed, they did not share his sense of responsibility for their well-being.
Being a soldier was like being a child. The decisions were all left in the hands of the officers, just as they had once been in the hands of his parents. He doubted though that the men down there had the kind of blind trusting faith in him that he had once placed in his mother and father.
Suddenly there was a banging on the outer door and the sound of horns. Sergeant Hef slid aside the small view port and stared out. A moment later he beckoned to one of the soldiers and sent him racing off in the direction of the main house. Guessing what was coming, Sardec strode down the stairs to meet him.
“Messenger from Lord Ilmarec, sir,” said the soldier.
“Very good,” said Sardec walking over to join the Sergeant at the gate. He glanced out and saw a group of humans in green uniforms with a red serpent on a white background over their hearts. One of the men was a tall, slender ancient, with a white beard and cold, green eyes. He caught sight of Sardec’s Terrarch face and said: “I bring you greeting from Ilmarec, Lord of the Serpent Tower and by grace of God, Guardian of the West.”
The last was a subtle touch thought Sardec. Normally that title would be granted in the name of the ruler of the realm. Ilmarec was claiming to hold it by favour of the supreme power. Was he letting them know that he did not recognise Kathea’s claim to the throne, or that he was the supreme power here in his own right?
“Please thank Lord Ilmarec in the name of Azaar, Lord Commander of Queen Arielle’s army of the South, and
